


(I think that we're supposed to be)

by mrtheparty



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Healthy Conversations, High School, Open Ending, Underage Drinking, adhd marty if u squint, as soon as marty comes back this is gonna be super inaccurate but :pensive:, but only of background characters, trans marty from the party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 07:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17545433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrtheparty/pseuds/mrtheparty
Summary: She had that look in her eye like she wasn’t sure whether to keep pushing for an answer or not.(Last time he saw her with that look, it was fun. It meant she was wondering what their next challenge or bet would be. Last time he saw that look he was eager for what she would throw at him next.)





	(I think that we're supposed to be)

**Author's Note:**

> this was the first fic ive written in literally 4 years, and ive only just gotten into andi mack but muffy and tyrus own my whole ass. this was written before 3x09  
> title is from groceries but mallrat

The sound of sneakers on polished floors, girls shouting, a restless crowd and what sounded suspiciously like Cyrus’ voice amplified from a megaphone filtered through the gym doors. Marty stood, hands in his hoodie pockets, gazing at the doors as if he hadn’t had the date and time of this first game on his mental calendar for weeks.

It wasn’t like he purposely looked out for her. As long as he had a reason to be where she was and he didn’t instigate conversation he had plausible deniability, right? He just happened to be in the same place as her.

That logic was what pulled Marty through the doors to Buffy’s first basketball game with the girl’s team. Marty liked basketball! It wasn’t as if he had an ulterior reason to be interested in how the team goes.

Sneak in after the game starts, stay towards the back of the gym, slip out before anyone notices he was there. It worked, and between all the cheering from Cyrus and Andi _– was that TJ Kippen sitting with them?_ – and Buffy’s own focus being on supporting her team no one was any the wiser. She played well, if a bit overworked compensating for the inexperience that came with the new team. When the girls scraped their first win it was hard to not cheer, but he allowed himself to be quietly proud as he slipped out, avoiding the GHC (+ TJ?).

It all snowballed from there.

* * *

It became a routine that he would never admit to having. Slip in, watch the game, avoid being in the GHC’s line of sight, slip out, say nothing. Sometimes Marty would hang back to see her curls bounce and her smile light up her face in the post-game celebration, but that was an indulgence rarely allowed. In the halls they didn’t speak, didn’t look at each other, didn’t acknowledge each other. Even after Marty graduated into JHS he continued to attend the games. If anyone asked, he would say something along the lines of ‘Jefferson school spirit! Just supporting the old teams.’ If anyone were paying attention, they might mention that he never visited any other team’s games, but high schoolers aren’t known for noticing things that don’t involve them, so Marty went unquestioned.

It changed when Buffy graduated and Marty’s routine again became a game of avoid, avoid, avoid, attend the (now JHS Girls’ Basketball, rather than JMS) games, avoid, avoid, avoid. So not too different than it was in middle school. The key to this avoidance was the knowledge of her rough schedule – not her exact classes obviously, he wasn’t a creep, but knowing which areas of the school she frequented and where to avoid the GHC during lunch. Which made it all the more annoying when she broke the routine.

It wasn’t even an expected break, like a teacher making the freshman do message duty or anything. No. she was intruding on his turf, on his area. Buffy Driscoll came to a party.

* * *

You’d think, that with a name as self-explanatory as Marty From The Party, the boy would be pretty well versed in party etiquette, but high schooler’s parties still managed to get the best of him sometimes. The bass was booming in his ear sending unpleasant vibrations throughout his skull if he stood next to a speaker too long, someone had brought a strobe light and set it up on one of the tables, making the house a blinding and deafening experience. He’d lost his friends in the crowd an hour ago, and was wandering between the dancers, nursing a soda that had managed to escape being spiked with what the seniors brought. With all the spilling drinks (which he wasn’t sure if were alcoholic or not), the sticky floor, the speakers blasting music around the house – _whose house was this again?_ – and the dozens of people jumping and dancing and running and yelling around him, it was safe to assume Marty was feeling pretty overwhelmed by this party. After tripping over some dude sitting in a hallway, narrowly avoiding a couple who were too interested in each other’s faces to look where they were going, he decided to take a breather outside.

 

The cool night air was a welcome change as he pushed through the throng of teenagers to the door. What wasn’t quite so welcome was the sight of two very familiar freshman and two fellow sophomores (and some Junior girl?) right in front of him. Now Marty isn’t an exceptionally logical person (read: avoiding his relationship problems for two years) but when he comes face to face with Andi Mack, Jonah Beck, Cyrus Goodman and TJ Kippen – _and the waitress from the Spoon?_ – all staring at him like they’d been waiting for someone who decidedly was _not_ him it wasn’t difficult to assume that Buffy Driscoll was far off.

Standing halfway down the front door steps with someone’s drink on his shoes, a bruise on his hip from the rustling crowd pushing him into a kitchen counter, cold night air on his face, a binder pressing on his ribs uncomfortably, a sticky residue from some drink or other that he had the misfortune to lean in staining his hand, a bass boosted remix blasting inside the house to his back and five teenagers he tried very hard to avoid standing on the lawn in front of him it was safe to assume that Marty From The Party was having a very bad time at this party.

They all already looked tired enough to crash, despite Marty having not seen any of them inside – not that you could see anything in there at this point.

When a familiar voice spoke from behind him, he couldn’t even be surprised.

 

“Do I know you?”

 

Marty was a simple man, if any 16 year old could call himself a man. He liked basketball. He liked running. He was pining over the girl who broke his heart. He liked chocolate and still asked for extra napkins with his food sometimes. He had a habit of making jokes whenever the opportunity and sometimes if he was lucky someone would banter with him. His favourite colour was red. He sent a letter and a pair of shoelaces to a girl he thought he’d never see again. He didn’t anticipate this situation.

If it were anyone else, Marty may have bolted. He may have turned around politely and said “Oh, no, sorry.” But you can’t say that to a girl who spent months in your not-relationship turning everything into a competition. You can’t say that to a girl whose friends are standing in front of you, staring you down (Marty would learn later they were just surprised to see him, not angry like he assumed).

Even as these thoughts were running through his head, sheer instinct in reaction to those words and that voice brought the response to the tip of his tongue as he turned to look back at her.

 

“You would know if you knew me.”

 

Marty honestly shouldn’t have been surprised as to how different she looked. He still saw her on a semi-regular basis during game season after all. But here, with street lights dimly illuminating her face, a strobe casting a halo effect around her hair, which was half pinned back and half unruly, he felt like he was 14 again, at Andi’s grandparents house greeting a cute girl with a story about a frog because he panicked.

Buffy Driscoll, basketball extraordinaire, game-changer, world-shaker, competitive to a fault, absolutely stunning Buffy Driscoll was looking him in the eye for the first time since 8th grade, and Marty… felt like an absolute _coward._

She took her eyes from him to turn to Andi and give her a look which only best-friend-telepathy could decipher and with that the five on the lawn turned and all started talking.

“Right, we’ll just…”

“Meet you at the Spoon, Buffy?”

“The party was dying down anyway!”

“Wait, who’s that guy?”

“Cyrus, do you have everything?”

Andi turned back to Buffy and nodded before corralling the others towards the street corner and Marty huffed a laugh at the sight. It was nice to see they were just as dysfunctional as before – despite the two blonde additions to the group.

“What are you doing here, Marty?” Buffy sounded resigned – to what, Marty didn’t know but it weighed on him, nonetheless.

Pursing his lips, Marty turned back to her, “It’s in the name isn’t it? I am Marty From The Party after all.”

She didn’t look amused.

“What about you, Buffy? Let me guess, you’re just here for the cheese puffs? Or did you find someone else for the witty banter? I don’t know if I’m really in the mood for it so you might need to go back inside for that –“ A drunk teenager pushed his way through the doorway past Buffy and interrupting Marty’s spiel, before wobbling down the steps and into a bush.

Buffy eyed the guy off before saying, disgruntled, “Somehow I think this party is past the coherency level needed for witty banter.”

Well, it was nice to know Buffy hadn’t lost her scorn in the past two years.

“Buffy, I –“ The universe seemed to want Marty to stop talking as a loud thud and a yell of “Oh, _shit!”_ interrupted him from inside the house.

Buffy huffed, looking down at Marty where he stood on the stairs.

“I don’t know about you, but this party seems pretty much over. Do you wanna get out of here?”

“Wh– And go where?”

She looked down at him again – this time Marty couldn’t tell if it was from the elevation difference or just plain judgement.

“You tell me, slick.”

* * *

They ended up at Jefferson Middle School’s outdoor race track. Marty was half annoyed at himself for being predictable, half relieved to be in neutral territory away from drunk seniors and ear-splitting music. They didn’t talk much on the way, and Marty let his feet carry him mindlessly, along familiar streets. It wasn’t difficult to hop the fence, they were both wearing jeans and jackets and the fence was made to keep middle schoolers contained, not so much high schoolers out.

When Buffy had scoffed at the sight of the school before them, Marty had turned to her and asked, “Would you rather we go to the Spoon and talk there, in front of all your friends?”

Evidently, the answer was _no,_ she would not like that, and they continued walking.

The first thing Marty did was lay down on the track, tired, the pressure on his ribs a borderline stabbing pain and anticipating the drain this conversation would have on him. Buffy raised an eyebrow, but sat crossed legged a few feet from him.

For a few minutes they just sat and breathed together, Marty looking at the stars and Buffy looking at Marty.

“I know you’ve been coming to my games.”

Oh.

“TJ saw you a while back and kept an eye out to see if you would keep coming. And you did.”

That’s annoying.

Marty frowned, “So you’re friends with TJ now? What was it you used to call him? Toxic TJ Kippen. And now you’re all buddy-buddy with him?”

She scowled at him and leaned forward with her elbows resting on her knees.

“Don’t change the subject. If you wanna hold onto old grudges from two years ago then be my guest, but TJ wanted to become a better person and he did. I would know that better than anyone, with how he treated me.”

“Oh, what, so is he your boyfriend now?”

For the first time that night Buffy looked genuinely surprised. And then immediately grossed out.

“Ew! No way, him and Cyrus are going out. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”

“Oh. Good for them,” Marty let go of his pride for a second. He was actually pretty fond of Cyrus, so he was glad he was doing well. Marty sat up, wincing as the pain increased – which of course Buffy noticed.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Gucci.”

She had that look in her eye like she wasn’t sure whether to keep pushing for an answer or not.

(Last time he saw her with that look, it was fun. It meant she was wondering what their next challenge or bet would be. Last time he saw that look he was eager for what she would throw at him next.)

He stopped her before she could decide, “I’ve been wearing my binder all day and I wasn’t planning on coming to the party tonight so I didn’t think I would be wearing it this long,” Buffy still looked alarmed or indignant (or worried), so he continued, “It’s fine, don’t worry. Just uncomfortable.”

Her brow was still furrowed as she looked at him.

“If you’re sure…”

“I am.”

Buffy sat back on her hands and looked up at the sky. She breathed a long breath and, not looking at Marty, said, “I just can’t figure out why, after all this time, you still care enough to come to my games. I can’t figure out why you put in the effort to watch, every game, but you still avoid me and pretend I don’t exist. And,” she added as Marty was going to start an excuse, “Don’t bullshit. Just this once. Talk straight with me.”

Marty felt a spark of anger burn in his chest. “What, like _you’re_ one to talk about feelings, Buffy? When did you become the expert on healthy communication? I can remember a few conversations you refused to ‘talk straight’ with me.”

He was expecting a fight, a challenge, a sign of the old spark that burned in Buffy when she would burn so bright, so intense, but now Buffy just seemed… sad. She still didn’t look at him.

“I’m not going to say you’re right, Marty, because you’re _not._ But I will say I’m sorry for leading you on.”

The tone of her voice, calm and steady and sad… And just like that, his anger fizzled and dissipated as quickly as it had arrived. Marty sighed.

“Why aren’t I right, then?” She looked at him, finally, only to cock an eyebrow. “Genuine question, Slayer, not an attack.”

Buffy paused, searching his face for a sign of a joke, or mockery. Apparently she accepted what she found because she answered with no contempt. She answered like she knew all the answers. She probably did, Marty thought.

“You’re not right because when we were together you acted like you had a right to date me, Marty. And when you didn’t get what you wanted, you just… left. And I know I hurt you, and that’s why I’m sorry but I don’t think either of us is without fault here.”

Marty looked at Buffy. He held her gaze until he couldn’t. Buffy’s eyes had always been intense, but now she seemed certain in a way that made it hard to react. Marty looked away, across the field. He thought of how hurt he was when Buffy wouldn’t give him a chance. He thought of how hurt Buffy had looked when he insisted what they had wasn’t enough.

“I never thought of it like that.”

He bit his lip. Tired of sitting still, he stood and stretched his arms, trying to ignore the pain.

“Buffy, how did you know I was gonna be here tonight?”

“At the party?” she raised her eyebrows, “I didn’t. After TJ mentioned he saw you, I wanted to talk to you but I guess I just… didn’t have the opportunity. We were coming to the party anyway, Amber knows the host and invited us along, but we were only there for about half an hour.”

Marty hums, “I don’t even know whose party it was, I was just bored.”

Her eyes turned playful, “Oh, Mr. The Party was bored at a party? It must have really sucked, then.”

“You have no idea, the seniors took over everything and brought all the alcohol. I don’t think they were even meant to come, I think they just heard the music and it was like moths to a flame.” He scoffed.

“I would hate to be the host who has to clean up after that.”

They were silent for a minute, basking in what had the tempo of a conversation that could almost match one from years ago.

“I went to your track meets a few times.”

Marty raised his eyebrows. “You did? I never saw you.”

“Apparently I’m just better at hiding than you are.” A hint of a smirk ghosted her lips. It was almost refreshing to see.

Marty looked away.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, rolling the words over in his head until it sounded like a sentence, and then two. Buffy waited patiently. Marty’s language had never been words, even for all his quick wit. He opened his mouth.

“Buffy, the first time I went to your game, I missed you. And that first game, you won with an inexperienced team who barely knew what they were doing because you helped them. You carried that team until they could stand on their own. No one told you to do that. If you were any other person than Buffy Driscoll, joining the boy’s team would have been enough. It would have been amazing! And I didn’t know how to talk to you anymore. Or I don’t know if I even wanted to, that first time. And by the time I knew, you were already Buffy Driscoll, basketball captain, probably forgotten all about her virtual boyfriend.” Marty smiled quietly and looked at her. He reached out a hand to Buffy, “But you are _Buffy Driscoll,_ and you’ll never settle for anything less than the best. The best team, the best grades, the best people. How could Marty From The Party fit into your life after that. And that was _if_ you chose to speak to me again.”

Buffy looked up at Marty, in the dark of the night, standing over her and smiling in a way that hadn’t been directed to her in a long time and Buffy, for the first time that night, smiled, large, relieved, fond, and tired. She took his hand and he pulled her up.

“Is that really what you think of me?” she asked, not unkindly, “Marty, you never had to be ‘the best’, you never had to be perfect, I just… liked you. And I don’t know what way, but I liked being around you and i’m sorry for throwing that away.”

He considered her, “So you’ll correct me on that, but not on the fact that I said you’re the best?” A smirk dancing across his face.

“And why would I? That part is completely true.” Buffy flipped her hair sarcastically. 

“At least your ego never changes…” 

The two snicker like kids at each other, like nothing had changed since they were fourteen. And maybe it hadn’t. 

“I think, if this were a movie, this would be where we introduce ourselves again.” Marty began slowly, “I don’t know about you, Buffy, but I am pretty eager to start over.”

She smiled again, slow and amused.

“You know what, Marty? We might as well. We’ve already met three times, what’s a fourth?”

Marty smiled, so fondly and so relaxed. It was easy to remember why he had been drawn to her, so long ago. He stepped back, and spoke;

“Do I know you?”

Like clockwork, she replied;

“You would _know_ if you knew me.”

* * *

“...Wanna go to the Spoon?”

“...Yeah.”

They started walking, jostling shoulders a little too roughly.

“What, no story about a frog this time?”

“Hah, nah, that kind of comedic gold only comes once in a lifetime.”

“Unfortunate for you that it came in the form of a shitty frog pun because you met a cute girl and got embarrassed.”

“And yet, look where that shitty joke got me!”

* * *

“Did you ever use those shoelaces?”

“Ugh, no, I was going to but… you know, sentimental value.”

“Awww, the Slayer has a heart!”

* * *

“So what’s the deal with TJ and Cyrus?”

“TJ apologised to me through rap and Cyrus fell in love.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh, yeah. They were pining for each other for so long but as soon as they got together it was like they’d been married for years.”

“Huh… Wonder what I gotta do to get Kippen to rap for me.”

“Literally nothing, he has rhymes written about everyone. I can’t tell if its sweet, the most genius thing ever, or the dumbest. He’s probably thought up one for you by now.”

“So, what, did he ask Cyrus out with a rap?”

“Hah! No, turns out the kids from the gym where he works asked Cyrus out for him, and he didn’t have to do any work.”

* * *

“...Speaking of going out, are Andi and Jonah still on their bullshit?”

“Ugh, no, thankfully! But don’t even get me started on how long their drama lasted…”

**Author's Note:**

> im on tumblr @mrtheparty !


End file.
